


Sherlolly Advent Calendar

by musicprincess1990



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Romance, F/M, Mild Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicprincess1990/pseuds/musicprincess1990
Summary: **ON HIATUS** A collection of unconnected, Christmas-themed oneshots, all Sherlolly of course. Based on a Tumblr post, which can be found on my blog, same username.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Sherlolly Advent Calendar

Molly put away the last newly-cleaned plate, letting out a contented sigh as she did so. It had been a lovely Christmas party, considering the circumstances. It was the first Christmas after Mary’s death, and it had taken a great deal of cajoling to get John to come. What finally did the trick was Sherlock telling him Mary would have taken the mickey out of him for not going. At that, John had looked briefly to one side, swallowed, then nodded.

They’d agreed to host the evening at Baker Street, which, to the surprise of all, took very little convincing on Sherlock’s part. When Molly had suggested it, he’d frowned at first, but after a moment he’d said it was much more convenient for him not to have to go anywhere.

Mrs. Hudson had made a colorful array of biscuits, and John brought a bottle of brandy which had been a wedding gift, but he and Mary had decided to save for a special occasion. Molly watched John throughout the evening, even more stiff and soldier-like than usual. This was difficult for him, and treating it like he was back on the battlefield was his way of coping. She began to wonder if perhaps they had pushed things too far.

“You’re worried,” a low voice interrupted her thoughts. Molly met Sherlock’s gaze, finding his own expression pinched with concern.

She gave him a sad smile. “Just thinking we may have pushed it, forcing John to come.”

“He’s a grown man, he could have stayed home if he wanted to.”

“Yeah…” she sighed, unconvinced. “I just… wish I knew how to help him.”

He took a step nearer. “I believe you did tonight. Being alone on Christmas is…” he trailed off, leaving the sentence to hang unfinished, then adding quietly, “You helped.”

Molly wondered, certainly not for the first time, what he had gone through during those two years away from London. Had he been alone those Christmases? Or had he found someone, somewhere, willing to be a friend to him, while those he would have spent it with believed him dead? She didn’t have the heart to ask him, and had promised herself she never would. There were some horrors too dreadful to relive.

Reminded of another, more recent horrifying event, Molly wondered about Sherrinford. John, being the least emotionally attached of the three men present, had given her a watered-down account. She knew of the tasks Sherlock had been required to complete, to solve, including the phone call. She knew he’d believed her life was in danger, and the “pass code” was the only way to save her.

And after some time spent recuperating, Sherlock himself had offered to share his account. But she had stopped him. She didn’t want him to relive that. It made her sick to think he’d lived it once, but to go through it a second time, even in memory? She couldn’t bring herself to ask it.

“Molly?”

She returned to Baker Street with a start, and gave a short laugh of embarrassment at being caught wool-gathering. “I’m sorry, I got lost in thought. I hope you’re right, though.”

“Molly,” he said again, not as a question this time. He stepped toward her again, now coming within arm’s reach, but he did not reach for her. Molly scolded herself for wishing he would, reminded herself that it wasn’t like that with them, and never would be.

Sherlock glanced down at his shoes, blinking several times in rapid succession. He looked almost nervous, but also determined as he spoke again. “If there is anything you want to ask me, you’re more than welcome.”

Molly’s looked up at him, stunned, not because he’d seemingly read her thoughts - she was used to that by now - but by the words themselves. Sherlock was rarely one to share details of his life outside of his work, but here he was, offering her any answers she wished. Oh, so many questions sprang to mind, all of them battling to be first in line. But before she could voice any of them, something caught her attention, from the corner of her eye. Something hanging from the light directly above their heads.

_ Oh, lord… _

Sherlock, seeing her attention diverted, glanced upward to see what it was. They looked at one another in tandem, then Sherlock’s eyes shifted down, landing on her lips… and he  _ blushed _ .

Molly blinked in amazement. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him blush, not once! But there was no mistaking the pink tinge on the otherwise alabaster skin of his beautiful face. And when those keen eyes met hers again, the black of his pupils seemed ready to swallow the blue-green ring of his irises.  _ He wants to kiss me _ , she realized.

Suddenly, only one question remained in her mind, the only one that mattered at the moment, and his reaction gave her the courage to ask.

“Did you mean it?”

He swallowed hard, but his expression did not change. Molly knew he understood her meaning, and held her breath as she waited for him to reply. Finally, in a voice so low that she would never have heard it, had he not been so close… “Yes.”

There was no stopping the grin that stretched across her face, nor the tears that sprang to her eyes. Sherlock, still blushing, the adorable fool, smiled shyly in return. “Yes,” he said again, more confident this time. “I  _ mean _ it.”

Just as before, the second time was more lovely and wonderful than the first. And yet, the man still had yet to touch her! Molly took the reins and leaned in close, laying a hand on his chest, just over the beat of his heart. As if on instinct, he lifted his hand to cover hers, and held it in place as his pulse drummed more quickly.

Then, finally, their lips met in a chaste, cautious kiss. But it didn’t stay that way for long. Soon, Molly’s hands had slid up to tangle in his curls, and his had found her waist, all while his mouth plundered her own.  _ Leave it to Sherlock to be as bloody brilliant at kissing as he is at everything else _ , she thought, before his tongue met hers and rendered all thoughts silent.

Some time later, they broke apart, both flushed and panting and grinning stupidly at one another.

“I think that’s the best Christmas gift I’ve ever been given,” Molly breathed.

Sherlock snorted, “Don’t make jokes, Molly,” but it was different from the many other times he had said it. It was softened with unmistakable affection, and by the gentle swipe of his thumbs along her cheekbones, wiping away her happy tears. “Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N’awwww, these two idiots! This ended up being more serious than I intended, but personally, I’m pleased with the result. Remember, every time you leave a comment, an angel gets its wings!


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